


Say Yes To Heaven

by ThaliaFromGrace



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: BAMF Berlin, BAMF Palermo, Berlin Doesn’t Have His Head Up His Fine Ass Anymore, Berlin Isn't Sick, Berlin lives, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone agrees, Everyone ships them, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Heist husbands, I Just Really Wanted BrotherInLaw!Berlin with Raquel Tbh, Jealous Berlin, Jealousy, Literally Just Heist Husbands Trash, M/M, Palermo Deserves Everything, Possessive Behavior, Season 3 and 4 rewrite, Seriously Can You Even Imagine?, So Technically A/U, Soulmates, Spoilers, Spoilers For Season 3 and 4, They Are Literally Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaliaFromGrace/pseuds/ThaliaFromGrace
Summary: "It seems that one of my little brother’s pets got lost, and now he needs our help with bringing him back home.”Martin swallowed hard at the reminder of the team that wasn’t his, that wasn’t theirs.The one Berlin had led and had been more than willing to die for.“When is he coming then?” Was all he asked, staring at Andrés evenly. “Tomorrow.” He replied, eyes dark on the other man.In which Berlin didn't die, and destiny did bring them back together.Except that this time around, Palermo isn't willing to settle for scraps, and Berlin will have to win back everything he lost that fateful night.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín, Bogotá/Nairobi | Ágata Jiménez, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina, Rio | Aníbal Cortés/Tokyo | Silene Oliveira
Comments: 223
Kudos: 555





	1. I Came Back For You

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 and 4 rewrite where Berlin is alive, and willing to do anything to win back his soulmate. 
> 
> Characters do not belong to me.
> 
> Please read and comment, leave kudos or suggestions!
> 
> This contains spoilers for season 3 and 4!

* * *

_then_

* * *

  
A loud knock woke him up. He groaned, feeling dizzy as he stood up too quickly, lamenting the loss of sleep he’d been enjoying, the first he’d gotten in many days. When he opened the front door, only to see Andrés standing on the other side, he closed it immediately, a tendril of anger beginning to stir within his chest. 

The man kept knocking, and Martin breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart, and his trembling hands, resting his head on the door as he felt the vibrations roll through the frame. 

“Martin, is this any way to treat an old friend? Please, let me in.” He knew the man was tenacious, used to getting his way, he’d be willing to keep knocking all night if that’s what it took. Martin scowled angrily, opening the door abruptly as he pulled the other in, unwilling to have his neighbors be witness to the confrontation that was sure to follow. 

Andrés grinned brightly, moving in to hug Martin without a care for the man’s personal space. He all but nuzzled into Martin’s neck, reminiscent of the way he’d done it a hundred times past, and the other man froze, his hands stuck to his sides, wondering if this was all some feverish hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep.

“What are you doing here Andrés? Did you come here to gloat? Or to break my heart again, like you did all those years ago?” 

Andrés reared back as though he’d been struck. “No. No, of course not. I’m here because I needed to see you.” The man stared at his friend, the man who was his soulmate, for the first time taking in his appearance. Martin looked thinner, gone was his sun kissed skin, the hint of freckles that Andrés had loved to paint many a time were absent, his skin was pale and bruise like shadows made his usual blue eyes look a stormy grey. Without even realizing it, his fingers traced the shape of one, gently, as though Martin was a wounded animal, bound to run at any moment. 

Martin pulled away from him abruptly, turning on his heel as he walked further into the small apartment. 

“Why are you really here?” His heart broke, hearing just how exhausted the question sounded coming from his lips. 

“I’m here because I needed to see my soulmate.” He answered simply, laying his cards on the table. Martin turned to him, snarling, and Andrés froze, not having expected the sudden reaction. 

He knew his friend had a temper on him, after all, Sergio never missed a chance to tell him how utterly unpredictable, how completely dangerous the man could be when angered. Watching his friend in this moment, he saw it with his own eyes. He had never seen such ire directed at him of course, but it was to be expected wasn’t it? 

This is what he deserved, after everything he’d done, the way he’d left him, the words he’d told him. Of course he had every right to be angry.

“Don’t you dare come here with that bullshit. You can take your soulmate crap and shove it up your ass, you son of a bitch. Leave Andrés. Now.” Martin didn’t spare a glance back as he walked away, too afraid of what his trembling hands would do if he faced his friend again, unsure if he would punch him, or pull him close and beg him to stay like he’d done all those years ago, dignity be damned. 

Andrés couldn’t help but smile at the display of anger, his best friend’s spirit hadn’t died then, underneath his tired facade, there remained the vibrant, passionate man he’d been so drawn to all those years ago. 

“It’s not bullshit, and I will not leave you. Never again. I don’t care if I have to camp outside of your door every day until you believe me,” he couldn’t help but curl his lip at the idea, however undignified it was, he would be willing to do it, anything to prove that he was serious, “I will be here. I am never leaving you again.” 

His dark eyes beseeched the other to believe him, but Martin remained wary, standing just out of his reach, his eyes unreadable, before he slowly stepped back into Andrés’ orbit, where the other was quick to accommodate him.

“Andrés?” Martin sounded so lost, so tired, and this time, he didn’t pull back when the other wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his body.

* * *

_now_

* * *

They didn’t talk about it, about the last kiss they had shared, about the very last words they had spoken to each other, and eventually, they settled into a rhythm, one that they were very much familiar with, but was also completely different to what they had before. In many ways it was like relearning the steps to a favorite dance long forgotten.

“Sergio is coming.” It was all he said over dinner that evening, and Martin had frozen, dropping his fork into the plate with a loud clunk, before wrapping long fingers around the stem of his wine glass, forcing his hand to remain still. 

The Florence sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, and Martin looked at it, feeling his heart sink into the pit of his stomach, already knowing that their time spent in this paradise would soon be drawing to a close.

“I take it this isn’t a social visit?” He asked Andrés, taking a sip. The man smiled softly, eyes crinkling, as he too took a sip of his own drink, “I fear not. It seems that one of my little brother’s pets got lost, and now he needs our help with bringing him back home.” 

Martin swallowed hard at the reminder of the team that wasn’t his, that wasn’t theirs. The one Berlin had led and had been more than willing to die for.

“When is he coming then?” Was all he asked, staring at Andrés evenly.

“Tomorrow.” He replied, eyes dark on the other man, and when he noticed that Martin had stopped eating, he murmured, smiling, “Finish your food.”


	2. Nice To Meet You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind words! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The idea of having to meet new people didn’t appeal much to him. After all, the last time they had welcomed a stranger into their midst, allowing her to come into their private sanctuary, she had stolen Andrés from him, in more ways than one. 

Still, he made the preparations, making sure to get the monastery as ready as possible for the influx of people that would soon be walking the halls. He would not give anyone a reason to complain about their hospitality, besides, Andrés had quite the reputation to uphold with the others, or so he’d heard. 

Martin knew about them of course, vague details that he’d learned in passing, through the media outlets and various social sites, the daredevils who had played with Spain’s perceived best and brightest, and won. 

Marseille had made sure to keep an ear on the ground for any information regarding either brother too, after all, it was important to be in the know, and just because Andrés had left him broken and alone, didn’t mean that Martin would suddenly stop caring for the man. 

Many nights he wondered if the next time he would see Andrés it’d be inside of a casket, or worse yet, tied down to a life of mediocrity, with adorable children at his heels and a doting wife on his arm, be it Tatiana, or lucky number six. 

* * *

He never brought the topic up himself, unwilling to go through the betrayal, through the anger and the pain, all over again, and Andrés never broached it either, seemingly content with pretending that the time he’d spent in the company of others had never actually transpired. 

* * *

Martin let out a shaky breath, staring up at the ceiling inside his bedroom. It seemed as though sleep was insistent on evading him. His head was swimming with thoughts, and all he wanted to do was curl up with Andrés by his side. 

That was another thing that had changed drastically. Before, Martin would never miss a chance to touch his best friend, and vice versa. Andrés had been particularly fond of slithering up behind him and wrapping strong arms around his waist, around his neck, always taking him by surprise. They were never far apart, thighs always touching, hands brushing, it was as natural as breathing to them. 

Even Tatiana had commented on their closeness when she’d first met Martin. Now though, now, they walked on eggshells around each other. Martin never touched Andrés, always careful to keep a respectful distance between them, and Andrés, the fearless Berlin, who’d been willing to die for his team as he faced down the police, was too much of a coward to ask why his friend was avoiding him, why he was being so cold and aloof. 

He figured it was what he deserved, but that didn’t stop his heart from yearning for his friend’s simple affections. He had been spoiled, he realized, never even having noticed just how Martin’s simple touches could ground him, make him feel human. He usually hated any form of physical contact, sneering in disdain at those who’d ever dared to touch him, even his precious wives were careful with this, knowing that anything physical, be it intimate or not, had to be initiated by him. 

Sergio and Martin had always been the exception to this rule, neither having any sense of fear when it came to him. Sergio, because he was his brother, his own blood, and Martin always did as he pleased, having done so since the first time they’d met, and Andrés was helpless against the other man’s charms. 

* * *

He had never expected to see him again. Yet, it seemed as though Andrés would never cease to surprise him, waltzing back into his life just when he’d finally managed to pick up the pieces, that damned smirk on his face, acting as though the last years hadn’t gone by, as though he’d never broken Martin’s heart, leaving him behind for a woman who he didn’t even last six months with in the end. 

All their years of friendship, of trust, and love, thrown down the drain, while he had all but gloated about not feeling the same things Martin did, kissing him to prove it, leaving him shattered and broken in ways he’d thought he’d never recover from. 

In many ways he hadn’t really, he idly traced the scars inside his arms as he thought about that night, about the feeling of utter hopelessness that had enveloped him, the dark terror that had seized his heart at the thought of never being able to see Andrés again. 

* * *

He found himself not impressed in the slightest, and really, this was the best team Sergio could have acquired? A ragtag band of nobodies. The ones he’d taken the time to train and bet it all on, instead of trusting him, trusting Marseille and Bogota? It was true that Sergio had never trusted him fully, all too aware of the feelings he had for his brother, but why couldn’t the others have been part of the plan? 

Still, he was all sunny smiles and gracious manners, ever the gentleman, as he presented himself to the group with the name of Palermo, wearing an expensive leather jacket over his favored black turtleneck and dark jeans, he looked like a dark angel, a sentiment the women seemed to share with Andrés, as they elbowed and whispered to each other, giggling. 

* * *

“You know he’s bound to find out what happened inside the Mint.” Sergio murmured, pushing up his glasses, so as to give himself something to do with hands. “I think it’s better if he knew what went on in there, from you, rather than having him hearing it from anyone else.” 

Andrés sighed, eyeing the little group of criminals his brother had seemingly adopted in lieu of actual children. 

He took a drink before he began. “I don’t want him to know anything, and I would’ve thought you’d agree with me, considering just how mercurial and overprotective Martin can be. You know that better than anyone else.” 

His little brother blanched at the unspoken implications, “Well you don’t have to tell him _everything_ , but he should know that he has to trust them, just as he trusts you.” 

The other man nodded, “He will.”

“I’m serious, he can’t fuck up the plan by not trusting or caring for his teammates.”

“He won’t fuck up the plan little brother, he loves it just as much as I do.” He hissed, walking away from him, already feeling the beginning of a headache.

“No Andrés, the only thing that he is capable of loving is you.” Was all Sergio whispered, now alone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? Want the next chapter? Leave me a comment with your thoughts, even if you just want to talk about the show, I’d love to hear them!


	3. You With Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh anyone else have the biggest crush on these idiots?! I've rewatched all of season 3 and 4 just because of them.
> 
> Also, Marseille and Bogota can like... get it.
> 
> Anyway please don't forget to comment! You guys are my inspiration and the reason I keep writing!
> 
> Love you all!

“Figures. This is exactly the dramatic atmosphere that Berlin lives for. He’s a modern day Count Dracula.” Nairobi laughed, twirling around the hallway as they gave them all the grand tour of the place. Denver snorted, “That explains the harem of five wives doesn’t it?” Martin pretended to not hear, but he had seen both Andrés and Sergio tense at Denver’s comment.

“Children. Behave.” Raquel scolded, smiling apologetically as they passed by the monks heading for morning prayer. 

* * *

Out of all of them, he thinks he likes Nairobi the best, he can see something familiar within her, something that mirrors the pain he feels in his soul. It’s clear she’s got a thing for the big bear of a man that’s Helsinki, but if the admiring looks he’s received from the other man are any indication, the Serbian bats for the other team. 

Andrés and Nairobi seem to have a tenuous relationship, she had immediately hugged him when she’d seen him, only to follow it with a slap that echoed off the stone walls. Bogota had gaped like a fish, already moving forward in case they’d need to separate the two, while Marseille had eyed Sergio and Martin, waiting for their cues in case he’d need to act. Martin had tensed, but all Nairobi had said was, “Don’t you ever fucking do that again. Asshole!” Andrés had laughed, and she had hugged him again, this time, with tears in her eyes. Though he was dying to know what that was about, he didn’t ask, letting them continue with their little reunion. 

Helsinki clearly cared for Andrés too, the big man had swung him up in his arms and patted him on the back when he saw him, and Andrés didn’t even look annoyed, no, instead, he had laughed joyously, greeting the man in the other’s native tongue. 

He’s annoyed with himself for liking Raquel too, or Lisbon as she’s introduced. She’s good for Sergio, that much is obvious, he’s never seen him look so happy in all the time he’s known him, and she’s witty and kind in equal measures. The group respects her, he can see that with his own eyes, but he’s still wary. He can’t shake the fact that she was the one who had helped those who ordered Andrés to be murdered, he could’ve lost his soulmate forever because of her, and well, Martin had never been good at not holding grudges. 

Tokyo stays out of his way for the most part, and he’s fine with that too, he saw the way she had looked at Andrés when they’d arrived at the monastery, and he can tell there’s no love lost between the two. She’s young, and impetuous, but she’s smart, he can feel her keen eyes tracking his movements around the monastery, when she thinks he isn’t looking, and he knows he’s going to have to keep an eye out for her. She’s taken to helping around with the farm animals, but even feeding the baby lambs, she still looks empty, and Martin knows that the missing team member, Sergio’s pet they’d lost, is someone very close to her. 

He’s most curious about Denver and the woman who’s known as Stockholm, so he asks about it that night during dinner, about how they met, and really what’s a beautiful, clearly educated woman doing with an idiot like that? They laugh when he tells them that, and Stockholm blushes prettily, waving away the compliment. Even so, Denver eagerly begins talking, gracing them all with their love story, starting from the moment he’d shot her in the leg. When he’s done, he holds Stockholm’s hand in his, and she stares into his eyes as though he hung the moon only for her. Everyone looks away to give them a semblance of privacy, but he can see Raquel gripping Sergio’s hand underneath the table. “But we weren’t the only ones who found love there, eh Berlin?” Denver’s teasing tone causes a weight to begin settling inside Martin’s chest, he already knows he won’t like what’s to come. 

Andrés laughs offhandedly, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “She was very pretty, what was her name? Ariadna? What even happened to her?” Denver continues, ignoring the warning looks that both Stockholm and Nairobi shoot him. Sergio clears his throat uncomfortably, eyeing his older brother steadily.

Ariadna, so that was her name. How nice. Would she have been number six? Or number seven? Hell, he wouldn’t even put it past Andrés to have her be number eight. The man went through wives like he went through his tailored suits. 

So much for soulmates right? Had he only come back because she, too, had grown tired of being ignored? Tired of being tossed aside when Andrés had gotten bored of her? Had she left him just like the others had? 

Once again he was Andrés’ second choice. The dog who would always be waiting patiently for his master to return, no matter how long he was away from home, he’d be there, eager to lay at his feet, begging for scraps of attention, and that would never change. He felt his breath begin to catch, and all he wanted to do was leave the table and go to his rooms to compose himself, but he would not give Andrés the satisfaction of seeing just how much he had hurt him. Again. 

Nairobi, sensing the awkward atmosphere that has taken over the table, changes topics, and soon Helsinki is up and about, showing off the large grizzly bear tattooed on his ample belly. 

Martin takes a drink of his beer, before interrupting coyly, “Hey big man, why don’t you let me take a crack at taming that? I’m good at taming wild animals.” He notices with satisfaction that the big Serbian is now blushing, but before he can answer, Sergio interrupts, “That’s very true, I mean just look at what he’s done to Berlin.” 

Raquel snorted into her drink, and the whole table began laughing uproariously. Now it was Martin’s turn to flush, as he looked anywhere but at Andrés, not wanting to see his reaction to Sergio’s comment. 

Still, he hadn’t expected Andrés to laugh too, but yet there he was, his eyes sparkling with humor as he passed a napkin to a still wheezing Raquel, and even though he’s chuckling still, his grip is hard, knuckles white, on the wine glass he’s holding, a sure sign that he’s not quite as happy as he seems to be.

The only reason Martin notices this is because he knows the other man so well, can read him better than anyone else can, better than even Sergio in fact, and all Martin can think of at seeing the look of barely restrained fury on his friend’s face, being directed at the big Serbian, is ‘Gotcha!’

And he smiles.

  
  



	4. What You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please!

Martin had been called a lot of things in his life. Some nicer than others, but he had never been called stupid.

He’s one of the smartest people in this merry little band of theirs, his intelligence rivaling that of both Sergio and Andrés, so when he sees Andrés’ little reaction to the comment he’d made to Helsinki he can’t help but laugh. He knows what is going through Andrés’ head at that very moment, and he also knows that maybe it’s time for a little payback. 

See, whenever he’d land himself a partner who’d stick around longer than for a one night stand, Andrés would conveniently get in the way of their developing relationship, finding whatever excuse under the sun to chase him out of their lives, all under the guise of wanting to protect Martin and his feelings.

After all, he only wanted the very best for his best friend.

Martin knew that Andrés thrived off of the attention he was given, and nobody worshipped at his feet quite like Martin did, so it was understandable that he’d be upset at seeing Martin’s attentions focused on someone else. 

It gave Martin hope. Hope that burned brightly in his chest, hope that Andrés acted out because he cared for his friend more than he was willing to admit.

* * *

Martin played nice for Andrés’ sake, showing off like only he knew how in front of the other's friends, helping them learn every part of the poem he'd written for Andrés, letting Sergio take charge and nodding along to his orders, smiling cheerfully all the while. He laughed alongside the younger brother, letting Andrés pretend that everything was fine, that things were just as they were before. 

The truth of the matter was that he hadn’t forgiven Sergio for what he’d done all those years ago, for taking Andrés from him. Sergio had had the gall to say no personal relationships, and Martin had never particularly liked following orders.

He sneers, thinking of Sergio’s own hypocrisy.

He won’t begrudge him his happiness, no, though a lesser man would, Martin has never been the type, but he can’t help and think back to all those years, when Sergio had convinced Andrés to leave him, claiming Martin’s feelings to be too dangerous to the plan, yet here he was, including Raquel in it, knowing full well of the liability that she posed.

She hadn’t even been around either brother long enough to know anything substantial about them, he was sure she’d be surprised to know that even mild mannered Sergio was as much of a narcissistic sociopath as Andrés was. She hadn’t even been around Sergio longer than he had, he’d known both brothers for close to two decades now, had been with both during the best and worst times.

Alas, it seemed as though the whole personal relationships rule didn’t apply to them.

* * *

“How long have you known Berlin?” Raquel asks over breakfast one morning. Martin can’t help but feel as though he’s walked into the middle of something dangerous. Raquel’s tone is that of an interrogator questioning a possible criminal. 

“Give or take ten years.” He replies simply, sitting down as he begins to pile food on his plate. Raquel stares at him, a soft smile on her face. 

“Well more power to you, you’ve gone ten years without killing him.” 

Martin snorts humorlessly. “Trust me, the sentiment is there sometimes. You’ve got it easy with Sergio.”

“Oh, I know, sometimes I can’t believe they’re actually brothers, they’re both so different.” 

Martin doesn’t quite agree with that, but he says nothing, taking a bite of his food to keep his mouth occupied.

Raquel keeps watching him, before setting her gaze down. “The first time I met Berlin, he was parading hostages in front of me as though we were judges in a beauty pageant contest, all while trying to flirt with me.” 

Martin smirks, that definitely sounded like something Andrés would do, alright.

“You never told me that!” Sergio reproached, arriving alongside his brother and shooting the older a glare.

Andrés laughed as he sat down next to Martin. “Calm down little brother, you really can’t blame me can you?” He winks at Raquel who only rolls her eyes at his antics. 

* * *

Fucking Helsinki hadn’t been part of his plan. No matter how much he’d like to stick it to Sergio about the hypocrisy of no personal relationships when they could all hear him and Lisbon going at it at three in the morning, he didn’t want the Serbian man to get any ideas.

But eventually he got tired of being kept out of the loop. 

By the looks of things, Andrés wasn’t going to tell him anything about what they all lived through inside the mint, anytime soon.

He’d grown very tired of listening to them talk and joke about something they only know of, he’s an outsider, who knows absolutely nothing, and he wonders just why that is. Even Sergio and Raquel know more than he does. He shouldn’t let it bother him so much, after all, Bogota and Marseille don’t care, but he wants to know.

He needs to know. 

And really? What better way to get information out of someone than when they’re sated and lulled after a good, long romp in the sheets?

His other plan involves another member of the team, one who’d definitely tell him what he wants to know with minimal fuss. 

That night, he approaches both Denver and Helsinki, bearing an expensive bottle of whiskey, and one of tequila, smiling guilefully as he presents the bottles to them. 

They are more than happy to agree to a boy’s night of drinking, and sooner than later, they begin to speak. 

Martin had always been good at holding his liquor, so he isn’t even close to being drunk by the time Helsinki and Denver are giggling at everything, absolutely plastered. He begins the questions, and he really doesn’t even need to try that hard, Denver tells him everything he’d ever want to know, as though he’d been kept under a vow of secrecy he’s grown tired of respecting. 

Martin wouldn’t put it past either Sergio or Andrés to have actually implemented one in the first place, he’d seen the uncomfortable looks and quick changes of topics when someone mentioned anything remotely specific about their last heist. 

“- No but what was really, really, funny was when Tokyo had us tie Berlin to a chair while she played Russian roulette with him!” 

Martin keeps mental notes, all the while wondering just what the fuck Sergio was thinking when he’d allowed these people to be part of a heist.

They could’ve killed his brother for fuck’s sake! 

By the end of the night, he’s decided that Helsinki is the only one who gets a pass in his book, and if his cousin Oslo had lived, he too would’ve made the cut.

Helsinki is the one he can trust to follow _Berlin’s_ orders completely and not turn on him. 

He’s still unsure about Stockholm, especially when considering the fact that she seems to be completely in love with Denver, and thus would most likely be only loyal to him.

Not even Nairobi is saved from his harsh judgments. Not when he learns that it was her harsh words spoken in the heat of the moment that were what led Andrés to almost sacrifice himself for them. She’d ripped his allusion apart cruelly, taunting him with what she’d overheard from that Ariadna girl, hurting him where he was most weak.

No wonder Sergio and Andrés hadn’t wanted him to know anything! The only person who’d be willing to embark on a suicide mission with teammates who’d be looking for the first chance to turn on them would have to be certified insane. 

In between his time spent with Helsinki in his bed, and with both Helsinki and Denver drinking, he learns more than what he’d been expecting. 

He can feel the weight of the judgmental stares of both Sergio and Raquel on him as he makes his way to breakfast, late of course, but if he didn’t like what Martin was doing he was more than welcome to speak up. 

* * *

Nairobi has been giving him the cold shoulder, and though a part of him feels pity for her, he can’t help but think of how pathetic she is. As if Helsinki could ever love her the way she wants him to, maybe he could get Andrés to give her the same educational little speech he’d given Martin all those years ago. 

Andrés had withdrawn from him, but Martin was vindictively pleased by that too, it felt good to be the one on the other side, the one inflicting the pain. Even if he knew that Andrés was just upset over Martin not paying enough attention to him. 

* * *

“You have to talk to him Andrés.” Sergio hissed, watching his older brother as he stared down at the picture Martin and Helsinki made, sitting together very closely on the grassy field where they took breakfast. 

Andrés didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Don't forget to comment!


	5. See You, See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos, next chapter will be up soon!

Cincinnati had become particularly taken with Martin, a fact which seemed to only bother Nairobi of all people. The man found himself being stalked around the monastery halls by his little shadow, who watched his every move with big blue eyes and angelic curls.

“He likes you.” Stockholm would murmur, her eyes soft and fond. 

“Well he has good taste.” Martin would reply. He had never particularly cared for children, however, he had to admit that this one was growing on him.

“Slinky! Pick up!” The baby demanded, holding his arms out for the big Serbian man to take. Martin couldn’t help but smile at the nickname, as the man did just that, picking the boy up into his arms and swinging him around gently. For such a bear of a man, Helsinki could be surprisingly gentle. 

Martin had been annoyed when he’d realized that a baby would be joining them in their home, but Cincinnati was surprisingly well behaved, and was clearly very loved by the family of criminals they had under their roof. The only person the baby seemed to be unsure of was Andrés. He would steer clear of the man, and would hide behind anyone else when Andrés was around, keeping his gaze on the floor and not interacting with him the way he did with the others. Even Marseille and Bogota were immune to the little one’s charms. Marseille had taken to having Cincinnati help him with caring for Sofia, a task which the little boy took very seriously, and Bogota seemed to remind the baby of Helsinki because he’d always ask for piggyback rides and to be held. 

Martin could feel Andrés’ gaze, heavy on the back of his neck, but he made no move to turn around. The man had been absolutely insufferable the last few days, liable to snap at even Sergio, who only watched his brother’s moods fluctuate with a somber look on his face. He had pulled away from Martin, barely even acknowledging the other’s presence and only when he absolutely had to, like when they were in the classroom going over plans that needed both of them there to explain. 

That hadn’t stopped Andrés from watching his every move from the balconies and the upper floor windows, like the possessive fuck he was. Martin sat on the blanket, smiling as he watched Cincinnati pull on Helsinki’s beard, and the big Serbian turned a beaming smile in his direction, not at all annoyed by the little boy’s actions. 

“Hey Cincinnati,” and wasn’t that a mouthful, only someone like Denver could come up with such a name, “tell Slinky to help us wave to Berlin, he looks like he needs some cheering up.” Martin said with sugary sweetness in his voice, watching as the boy eyed them both curiously, before Helsinki grabbed his little hand and they all turned to where Andrés stood watching them. They waved at him, Martin with a beaming smile on his face as he eyed the dark look that fell over Andrés. 

* * *

Martin bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, all to avoid whimpering out the name of the person he had been thinking of all morning. It wasn’t fair to Helsinki, but Martin had never promised him anything more than the romps they’d had. 

Every time the bigger man would try to be gentle with him, he’d push back, he didn’t want gentle. He wanted this to hurt, he needed it to. 

* * *

Andrés felt the moans vibrate into his skull and he wanted to go into Martin’s bedroom and shoot Helsinki in the head for daring to touch what rightfully belonged to him. His hands itched with the idea, maybe he’d skin the Serbian alive, all while making Martin watch, letting him see the consequences of his actions, a punishment for letting another man touch him so. Martin was his, he had been his since the first time he’d laid eyes on the other man all those years ago. 

* * *

Sergio was the one who noticed it first, but he didn’t bring the topic up to Andrés, not knowing how he would even broach it really. 

He wanted to talk to Martin himself, he knew he owed the other man an apology, but he also knew his older brother needed to do it first, before things became any more volatile between the two. He was sure that Martin didn’t care for Helsinki, the man was just using him as a way to rile Andrés up, and judging by his brother’s horrible moods, it was definitely working. 

* * *

Andrés noticed it the day they played soccer with the others. It was an unreasonably warm day in the monastery, and they’d managed to convince Sergio to give them the morning off to play a friendly game between them, framing it as some form of bonding exercise.

Martin was wearing a long sleeved shirt under his green polo, and even Tokyo had commented on the unusual fashion choice, but Martin had merely rolled his eyes. 

Stockholm had decided to not play, saying she’d rather watch from the sidelines and keep Cincinnati occupied, while Sergio played the referee, everyone got into two teams. Coincidentally Martin and Andrés ended up on opposing sides. Andrés, as always so vain, had sneered disdainfully at the proffered red uniform, and had instead donned a full red tracksuit. When the heat became unbearable he’d stripped down, eyeing Martin’s long sleeved under shirt with curious eyes. 

* * *

Andrés barged into his room the next morning, an echo of times past, when he came and went as he pleased into the other’s bedroom. 

He hadn’t done it since the others had arrived, partly in fear that he’d find Helsinki in bed with Martin, and partly because he’d been avoiding his best friend, only to stop in his tracks when he sees the scars adorning the inside of Martin’s arms. 

“What is that?” His voice sounds faint even to his own ears. 

“Yes Andrés do come in, thank you for knocking.” Martin ignores his question, and quickly finishes buttoning up his long sleeved dress shirt. 

He grabs Martin’s arm, pulling harshly. “What the fuck is that?” Fear always makes him lash out, but this time he thinks his tone of voice is justified. Martin pulls his arm out of his grip. 

“It’s nothing. Let’s go, we’re going to be late.” 

“I don’t give a single fuck if we’re late, what is that?” 

“The remnants of my own stupidity, happy? Can we go now? I don’t want your brother calling me out in front of _your_ team.” 

He didn’t miss the emphasis that Martin placed on the word.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How cute is Cincinnati?! 
> 
> Also, I just loved Berlin's lovely tracksuit in season 1, ugh. 
> 
> Next chapter will be coming soon, don't forget to comment!


	6. What You Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always, for reading and commenting!

Their shouts could be heard all over the monastery. Both Raquel and Stockholm kept exchanging worried glances over the large dining table they kept in the garden, wondering if the monks could hear the brothers too, but Martin was happily ignoring everything around him, choosing to focus his attention on Cincinnati and the little model they were building of the bank of Spain with the plastic blocks he’d brought along. 

That morning, Andrés had snapped at Raquel during class time, the woman hadn’t responded, already used to Andrés and his mercurial moods, and Sergio for his part, had only narrowed his eyes at his older sibling, dismissing class early but keeping Andrés back. 

Thus, began their shouting match. They’d been at it for hours, and Martin was getting tired of it. The whole point of him living in a monastery was because he actually enjoyed the silence and calmness that surrounded the place. Both of which had seemingly disappeared the moment Sergio and his pets had arrived. “Martin, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the market?” Stockholm's soft voice cut through his musings. He turned to stare at the woman. “What’s the occasion?” They usually only went to the market twice a week, both Martin and Stockholm were the designated shoppers given the fact that anyone else in their little group would be liable to draw more attention than the two blondes, what with them being wanted criminals and all.

“Were you not paying attention during class?” Raquel questioned, amused. Admittedly, he had not, he’d been too focused on ignoring the burning glares Andrés had been shooting his way, knowing the man would want to talk about what he’d seen that morning on the inside of his arms. 

“No. Sorry.” He replied, grinning sheepishly.

“The others are coming today, and we wanted to prepare a big dinner.” Ah right. The other Serbians and their replacement for the last miner they’d lost. Sergio had mentioned that they would be an integral part of the plan, why he felt the need to have them come to the monastery was beyond Martin, in his opinion they already had more than enough guests living here. 

Even though the last thing he felt like doing was going to the market, he got up, brushing the dirt off his jeans and waiting for Stockholm to get ready. 

“Hopefully they haven’t burned the place down, by the time we come back.”

* * *

“You’re acting like a spoiled child! Are you seriously angry over the fact that Helsinki is playing with your favorite toy?” Andrés snarled at the accusation, ignoring his brother as he turned to face the model they’d built. Sergio let out an annoyed breath, trying to calm himself. He had grown sick and tired of seeing him and Martin dance around each other. The heist was in a few days, and they had to resolve whatever issues they had between them, before they went inside. 

“You’re going to have to tell him sooner rather than later! Isn’t that the whole reason you came back here in the first place?! You’ve had an entire two years with him!” Andrès remains quiet, and Sergio growls, “Are you really so disgustingly traditional as to refuse to see what’s right in front of you?! You love him Andrés! I told you this all those years ago myself, and you refused to see it.” 

“I didn’t refuse to see it! I told him I loved him too.” 

“No. You left him broken, after kissing him and then telling him that you would never be able to love him the way he wanted.” He doesn’t mention the bullshit mitochondria excuse his brother had given Martin, even Sergio who had absolutely no sense of social skills, had cringed upon hearing his brother’s drunkard ramblings about that. 

Andrés blanched, remembering the night he’d gotten completely drunk and confessed everything to his younger brother. Everything he’d said to Martin the night he left him behind. He’d never thought Sergio would bring it up again. 

“And who was the one who told me to leave him? Who told me that what we had was dangerous? That it would kill us both in the end?” Andrès trails off quietly. 

Sergio looks down, shamefaced. “Even I am wrong sometimes Andrés. You know this better than anyone. I should have never come between you two and you truly have no idea how deeply I regret that I did. Can’t you see? By leaving him, you not only broke Martin, but you broke yourself too. You are not okay. You were willing to die in the Mint for fuck’s sake! Willing to leave me and everything behind!” 

Andrès loses steam at the reminder of what he’d almost done. He turns away from his brother. 

“Just talk to him. Please. I don’t want you to have any regrets. You’re the one who pushed me to pursue a relationship with Raquel, and I am a better man today because of it. Now I need you to do the same. You have to fix yourself by fixing him.”

* * *

They’d taken Cincinnati along, at Martin’s insistence, knowing that Stockholm worried when the little boy wasn’t in her sight, and also knowing that aside from Raquel, and despite their good intentions, the others didn’t make for the best of babysitters. 

The lady at the market had confused them for a couple, cooing at the sight the three made, and rather than try to correct her Martin had simply smiled and curled his hand over Stockholm's, wondering if his life would have been simpler if he’d actually liked women instead of egotistical sociopathic men. 

* * *

Having arrived back at the monastery, he’d helped them unpack the things they’d bought at the market, before excusing himself for a short nap. 

At least the shouts had finally stopped. 

Later, when he’s awake and freshly showered and dressed, he’s tasked with helping the ladies set the table, he’s about to enter their indoor dining room when he hears Nairobi and Sergio talking in low tones. 

He stops, wondering just what this is about, making sure to keep to the shadows as he strains his ears to listen, were they discussing the brother’s earlier shouting match? 

The more he hears, the more his eyebrows rise. Realization dawns on him, and he can’t help but smirk. Had Sergio already spoken to Raquel about this? Surely the woman hadn’t agreed to it? 

He couldn’t believe Sergio was even going along with the weak manipulations of the other woman, how did one compare a heist to having a child?! 

“I mean, if you don’t want to do it, I could always ask Berlin.” Nairobi comments innocently, and Martin has to bite his lip in order to not guffaw out loud. She can’t be serious? As if Andrès would even agree. What had happened inside the Mint to give her the idea that the man would make a good father in the first place? 

He wants to laugh, but manages to restrain himself listening as Sergio quickly shoots down the suggestion, no doubt thinking along the same lines as Martin is. He rolls his eyes at Sergio’s acquiescence. 

Well, Sergio is an idiot, he almost wants to be the present when the man breaks the news to Raquel, but decides that he’s had enough drama to deal with as of lately, so he waits for a few minutes longer, making his steps loud and purposeful so as to announce his arrival as he walks in, ignoring the smug look on Nairobi’s face and Sergio’s oddly pleased one. 

* * *

Martin listens as they go over the plan, raising their glasses in a toast to their future success, eyeing them with barely concealed disdain.

This whole band of idiots might believe Sergio’s impassioned speech about this being for Rio, for each of their own personal freedoms, but Martin knew better. He knew that this was for what they’d almost done to _Berlin._

 _  
_ What the brothers wanted was vengeance.

* * *

Martin was in his bed, staring at the ceiling, still dressed in his jeans and leather jacket. It was late, but he couldn’t sleep, not with everything that was currently going through his mind. Not for the first time he wondered just what the hell he was doing here. Sergio had said they needed him, they needed his blessing in order to go through with the plan, but really what was the point? 

Had he really forgotten the disdain with which he’d tossed the idea aside, calling him mad, calling the whole plan a suicide mission. He should’ve left. He could still leave really. But pulling away from Andrés gravity had always proved impossible, he was weak, so weak, and Andrés would always use his affections for him against him, and Sergio, despite thinking of himself as a harmless Robin Hood who fought for the people, was just as much of a sociopath as his brother, he was willing to use others to get what he wanted just like Andrés was.

Raquel was proof of that, it was lucky that she too, had fallen in love. It was almost too good to be true really. He knew that the only reason he was here now was because he knew this plan better than Sergio did, and he also knew that it was probably at Sergio’s insistence that Andrés had included him in it. 

There was a soft knock on his door, but Martin didn’t feel like getting up, Helsinki would have to entertain himself tonight, Martin was just not in the mood. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of the lock being picked, and he sighed, turning to stare at the only person who would ever dare to come in when he was clearly not welcome. 

Andrès was wearing the red turtleneck that made his cognac colored eyes stand out even more. 

“We need to talk, Martin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody else squicked out by Nairobi's and Sergio's conversation regarding Ibiza? Don't get me wrong, I adore Nairobi, but that whole scene was just like erm, it just seemed like a huge act of disrespect to Lisbon in my opinion. Anyway let me know if you disagree or agree, or just what you thought about this chapter overall in the comments.


	7. Your Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> Next chapter is the beginning of the heist!

“Or rather, I’ll talk and you can listen?” He amended, a slight hitch to his voice that let Martin know he was nervous, despite the fact that he was trying very hard to hide it. 

“Must we really?” Martin grumbled, turning away from Andrés and facing the wall, curling his body protectively. He tried to swallow down the memory of the last time they’d had a talk that began on such an ominous note like this one, dwelling on the past hurts Andrés had inflicted upon him was a pointless endeavor really. After all, Martin had forgiven him. 

Hadn’t he? 

Andrés hesitated in the doorway, before stepping inside and locking the door behind him. “Yes, we must.” When Martin didn’t uncurl himself from his bed, the older man gave a soft sigh, breath catching when he noticed something hidden in the corner. 

“You kept it.” Andrés’ voice broke, eyeing the large painting in the far end of the room. His own face stared back at him, a regal expression perfectly captured on his features. 

“Of course I did. It was my only reminder of you.” Martin snapped, flushing slightly at the look of wonder on the other’s face. Martin had forgotten to cover it earlier, and now he was berating himself for his lack of foresight. He hadn’t wanted Andrés to see it, or anyone else really, for how could he explain the fact that he had an entire portrait of the other man just sitting in his bedroom? 

Martin didn’t move as he felt the weight of the bed shift, indicating that Andrés had taken a seat on it. He stared at a crack on the wall, mentally counting the seconds that passed by.

“I know that I have not been acting as... I should.” The oh so eloquent man finally began, before clearing his throat. “What I mean to say is, I am sorry for the way I’ve been acting with you.” And then, softer, he added, “I miss you.” 

Martin rolled his eyes, still facing away from him. “I’m quite literally right here Andrés, I’ve been here, right next to you, all this time.” He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but it was the truth wasn’t it? Despite everything Andrés had done to him, how broken he’d left him, how he’d humiliated him, Martin was still here, he’d always be here, standing right next to him. He’d follow him to the ends of the earth, it was just how things would always be. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. Ever since Sergio and the others arrived you’ve pulled away from me.” Andrès accused suddenly, patience beginning to fray, and Martin hissed, anger flaring hot in his chest. 

“Oh I’m sorry! I thought you were the one who wanted me to make nice with your little brother and your friends! I’m sorry I haven’t spent all this time worshipping at your feet and paying attention to only you Andrés! If anyone’s pulling away, it’s you!” What more did Andrés want from him? He hadn’t put up any form of protest regarding the sudden changes in both of their lives and routines, he’d behaved himself with Sergio, even though the man didn’t deserve any amount of respect from him. He’d dealt with the influx of people as gracefully as he could, sharing his space and time with them because he knew Andrés wanted him to, so what if he’d taken to fucking Helsinki? He deserved to have some fun, didn’t he? 

They stayed quiet, before Andrés began again. “My brother says I am acting like a spoiled child. I guess I am in a way, I’m not used to sharing you with anyone. If I’m being perfectly honest, I never even liked sharing you with Sergio.” 

Martin doesn’t say anything, the anger still burning in his throat, wondering just where all of this was going. 

“As much as I enjoy the color the others have brought into my life, I would much rather it still be just us two. I miss you.” 

Martin rolled over, pulling the blankets up to his chest. “I’d like to go to sleep now, if you don’t mind. Please lock the door on your way out.” He tries to ignore the flash of hurt in Andrés’ eyes at the obvious dismissal. 

* * *

Raquel and Sergio had taken to napping in the midday sun on the wooden cots. 

“They’re made for each other aren’t they?” Martin asked softly, as they watched the two from the window, grinning at Andrés. 

The other man nodded, placing a hand on Martin’s hip, leaning closer into his frame, pretending he didn’t feel the smaller man freeze at the action. “Yes, they are.” 

* * *

“So both your brother and Denver found their true loves in the midst of the heist. What happened to yours?” Martin asked that evening. Both were slightly drunk now, their only companion was the setting sun.

Andrés sighs slowly, before asking, “What do you mean?” 

“I’m talking about Ariadna.” Martin hopes his voice doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

“One would think you’d know the whole story by now. Wasn’t that the whole point of your little interrogation sessions with both Helsinki and Denver?” His face is half hidden in the shadows, but Martin knows he’s staring at him. 

“I’d like to hear it from you if you don’t mind.”

* * *

Shouts were what woke him this time, and Martin groaned, wondering if their guests knew about things called manners. Was Andrés awake still? Were he and Sergio arguing again? 

No. 

The voices were decidedly feminine and a little high pitched. He froze, had Raquel figured out just who the father of Ibiza was going to be? 

Oh great, now they’d moved their little scene to the hallway. He got up and huffed, wrapping his bathrobe around his waist loosely. It was actually not Raquel and Nairobi who were arguing, rather just Nairobi and Stockholm, who were soon joined by Denver and a bleary eyed Helsinki. Martin listened as they began to gang up on Denver, from the corner of his eye he saw Andrés leave his room, his red silk sleep robe cinched at the waist. 

Andrés snorted in glee at hearing his quip to Nairobi and Monica, who both looked shocked at his lack of usual decorum. Sergio should’ve warned him how testy Martin got when his sleep was interrupted. When Nairobi pulled her slipper off and threw it at Martin, Andrés moved to catch it, shooting her a quelling look, the last thing they needed right now was a fight to break out. Marseille stood in the shadows, his sleep hat on sideways, and a gun in his hands, as he eyed the arguing group warily. When he caught Berlin’s eye, Berlin smiled placatingly, letting him know everything was alright. The sound of a throat being cleared stopped them all in their tracks, as they turned to face their irate looking Professor with sheepish expressions. After Sergio sent them off to bed, Andrés slipped into Martin’s room, waiting for the other man to make his entrance.

Martin didn’t even blink when he saw him sitting on his bed, he knew Andrés would want to continue their talk. 

“Nairobi will want that back.” Martin motioned to the slipper in the other’s grasp. 

Andrés sighed long sufferingly, throwing the shoe on the floor. “I wish you two would get along better.” He said, before lying down dramatically on the bed.

“We get along just fine.” At Andrés’ disbelieving look, Martin cracked a smile, “Most of the time, at least. She’s just very…” 

“Intense?” 

“She’s a spitfire.” Martin begrudgingly accepts. 

Andrés nods sagely before saying, “A goddess in every sense of the word.” 

Martin feels his heart sink, as he tries to swallow his disappointment. “Don’t tell me you-“ he cuts himself off abruptly.

“What?” Andrés reads him like an open book, he sits up suddenly and starts laughing, “No, it’s not like that. I simply respect her.” 

Whatever history they shared, was that why Nairobi had made the comment to Sergio? About using _Berlin_ for what she needed? Martin runs his fingers through his hair, wishing for something to occupy his attention with, he doesn’t want Andrés here, laughing at his obvious jealousy. 

He’s about to move away when strong hands grip the front of his bathrobe, pulling him to stand between open legs. “What are you doing?” Martin asks, staring down into Andrés’ handsome face. 

“Nothing.” The other replies innocently. He trails long digits to cup Martin’s face, the way Martin had done with him years ago. Martin stands still, not even allowing himself to breathe. His own hands ache with the need to pull Andrés closer, always closer. Fingers, elegant, painter’s fingers, outline the shape of his lips with unmistakable tenderness, and Martin opens his mouth slightly, finally daring to look into the other’s eyes. Andrés’ stare is heavy, and Martin feels his chest constrict, the fingers have moved to his jaw now, and their grip is decidedly harder, Andrés has a fierce look on his face and Martin waits, letting Andrés do as he pleases.

“Palermo, I want my slipper ba-“ Nairobi stops at the sight that greets her. Martin feels his face burn, and he almost trips on his way out of his room, not daring to look back.

* * *

The closer they got to the day of the heist the more tense things became between them all. 

Marseille and Bogota were sniping at each other, both clearly itching for a fight, and Andrés got ready just in case he’d have to get in between the two. When Denver pushed the man too hard, Marseille grabbed the knife and put it at his throat, baring his teeth at the younger in a clear warning. Martin moved quickly, pulling Denver back while Andrés grabbed Marseille’s attention. “Marseille. Put it down.” Marseille hesitated, staring at their Professor, and then at Martin, who nodded at him, before he placed the knife on the table slowly. “Both of you. Out.” Sergio commanded in a hard tone, suddenly looking years older. Martin sighed, catching Andrés’ stare.

* * *

“My brother wants me to stay outside with him this time.” He sneered in disgust at the very thought, taking a measured sip of his drink.

“I know.” When Andrés raised an eyebrow in question, Martin continued. “He told me, and I agreed with him.” 

Andrés looked at him, feeling betrayed and angry. “You would have me stay here, while you went in, without me by your side?” 

Martin didn’t meet his eyes. “I think it’d be better for everyone, yes.” 

“You can’t mean that. This is our plan! You and I are the ones who created it and we are the ones who have to see it brought to life.” Martin said nothing, letting him continue. “Besides, I would feel better if Sergio had Marseille as backup out there, nobody is as competent as he is, and Sergio is going to need all the help he can get, especially considering the fact that he’s got Raquel to worry about this time.”

Martin nods, too tired to continue arguing with him. 

“Are you scared?” Andrés asked after a moment of silence. 

Martin stares at him for a long moment, before deciding to be truthful. “Yes.” 

“Don’t be. Everything will be fine.” 

“I’m not scared for myself Andrés. I’m scared for you. I almost lost you once, I thought I had lost you.” He remembers hearing the news of Andrés being shot, how he’d felt the world drop from under him. The reminder alone is enough to heat his blood, and he opens his mouth, “Sergio is right. You know he is, and that’s why you're so upset.” 

Andrés looks at him incredulously, setting his glass of wine down, but Martin plows on. “Will you be able to make the hard calls?! Without getting emotional? You were willing to die Andrés! You almost did die, are you going to remain objective in there and not let your feelings cloud your judgment? Your brother is afraid that it’ll happen again, only this time you’ll succeed with killing yourself!” Martin is breathing heavily now, and he blinks back the tears that have begun to form in his eyes. 

  
  


“My brother is wrong, because this time I have a reason to live. I am not letting you go in there without me.” He says with a tone of finality.

“Please. I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.” Martin doesn’t even care that he sounds weak, he needs Andrés to understand.

“You won’t lose me. Especially not now that I’ve found you again. I am yours. Forever. Until you decide you’ve grown bored of me and toss me aside like the trash I am.” 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. I could never tire of you.” The thought alone was enough to make his heart crack. 

Andrés leans back in his chair, abruptly changing the topic. “Will you tell me? How did you get those scars?”

Martin breathes heavily. “When you left, I wasn’t in a good place mentally. I was afraid I’d never feel anything again, so I did it as a way to prove I still could.” 

Andrés has tears in his eyes now, and he looks down at the floor in shame. Martin almost smiles at the sight.

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine, for being so weak. So pathetic. What a fucking cliche huh? The faggot who fell in love with his straight best friend.” Martin laughs self-deprecatingly, shaking his head at his own foolishness. 

“Martin. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am here now, and I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” 

Martin doesn’t say anything, staring at him through listless eyes.

“I have wronged you so my love.” Andrés whispered, gripping his sleeve and tugging him closer. 

Martin pulled his arm back. “You didn’t _wrong_ me Andrés, you just didn’t want me. And stop calling me that.” He adds, almost as an afterthought. 

Andrés stands up, pulling Martin closer and grabbing his jaw possessively. “But I do want you. I always have.” 

He crushes his lips against Martin’s and Martin drowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two so much, ugh honestly, they kill me. WHY COULDN'T THEY HAVE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER?!
> 
> Anyway, please comment your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?  
> Don't forget to comment!


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